My Immortal (7 page)

Storm hated the helpless feeling. He pulled into the garage and pressed the button to close the insulated aluminium door. They sat in silence, bathed by the dim light of the garage door opener in the garage ceiling. His heart thumped.

“Are you a monster?” Stevie sat up and clutched his hand. “Tell me the truth.”

The air rushed out of his lungs.
A monster?
Who had forced the truth of what he was onto her? Or worse, did she believe it? God, he should be in her head right now. “Honey, I’m no fiend unless you consider a guy who sneaks around chasing adulterers a beast.”
Oh, and I happen to be a vampire, but that’s nothing…
He couldn’t tell her that. Not yet.

She flicked a lock of loose hair behind her ear and stared into his eyes. “When I made the deposit, a man attacked me.”

Storm froze, mentally knocked down to hear her verbalise the severity of the situation. The fear in her eyes and the catch in her voice churned his insides. He’d wasted time with a client while his partner risked her life for a few thousand dollars, and he’d had no idea. He couldn’t forgive himself for that screw up.

“When?
Who?”

She picked at an invisible piece of lint on her jeans. “After I slid the money through the slot, a man grabbed me. He forced me to walk half a block then shoved me into an alley. I didn’t see his full face because of the ski mask, but he had dark brown eyes and perfect white teeth. I’d remember his voice if I heard it again—real low, like a growl.” Stevie caressed the door handle. “He reeked of strawberry candies.”

Storm slid into the centre of the seat and held his arms open. Stevie scampered onto his lap and rested her head on his shoulder. “He told me to steer clear of you. He said you are a monster who couldn’t fulfil my dreams. His exact words were ‘he’s not your kind’. What does that mean, Storm?”

Storm smoothed his fingers through her tangled hair. Rage boiled in his veins. The un-named creep knew and wanted to warn her. Who the hell was this guy? There weren’t that many vampires roaming the
Ohio
countryside. He thought long and hard before answering. The scent mixed with her normal chemistry was strawberries. O’Toole used candy to lure his victims—strawberry candy.

Jamison had tried to mark Stevie.

Storm suppressed a growl and choked out the first thing that came to mind. “Baby, I didn’t grow up around here, so the guy probably wanted to scare you. Some people don’t like foreigners in their home towns.”

That explanation sounded lame and he cursed under his breath. “I mean, some people have a hard time accepting change.” He bit down on his tongue. The addendum to his first statement sounded like something out of a ridiculous discount greeting card. Should he tell her his truths?

Stevie sat up and pulled the elastic band from her hair. Mahogany curls tumbled over her shoulders. Storm gasped as she ripped the hunter green T-shirt over her head and revealed the delicate lace bra cupping her breasts.

“Then make love to me, here in the truck, and prove that what we have is real.” The straps of her undergarment slipped down her arms, exposing her taut rosy nipples. “I’m tired of running and hurting. Show me how you really feel.”

Storm blinked and let her words sink in. Tired of hurting? No more running? Not from her past. They’d jumped that hurdle the day before. So who was the jerk who put the fear back into Stevie’s life? Was it O’Toole?

Storm’s brain swam with information both explicit and implicit. Stevie wanted love. Yes, that he intended to do.
Until they collapsed.
He wanted to read her thoughts, but refrained. She needed to come to him with her anxiety. Questions could wait until later.

“Come here.”

Stevie slid out of her jeans. Storm conjured every ounce of restraint he possessed not to stroke her naked, smooth skin and take her without delay. “You went commando?” His question came out on a gasp.

A broad grin kinked her lips. “You got away with it and I wanted to see what it felt like. It’s kinda fun.”

He reached around and unclasped her bra. A chuckle erupted in his throat as he sampled her skin from her neck to her collarbone. “I’m glad I didn’t know, bad girl, because we never would’ve made our meeting otherwise.”

Stevie nipped his chin and feathered kisses over his Adam’s apple. “I like to surprise you.”

She unzipped his jeans and cupped his erection. Storm groaned. Her hands felt like silk around his throbbing dick. “Baby, I don’t have protection. We already used the rubber I kept in my wallet.” Not that they needed protection. He couldn’t reproduce. But if a condom kept her mind at ease, then fine.

She swiped the bead of pre-come glistening on the tip over her finger then traced the slickness over her lips. Her tongue darted out to taste him. She straddled his lap, placing his cock against her clit. “I want to feel you inside me without a barrier. I want to ride.”

Her command was all the approval he needed. Storm grasped her hips and thrust himself into her in one swift motion. She rocked on his lap. Her movements surged in time with his, sending sparks from his cock to his heart. Her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders and her pussy clamped around him.

Stevie gasped and shuddered.
“Oh, God!”

She threw her head back and groaned. Her pale skin glowed under the dim yellow bulb shining through the moon roof of the truck. His fangs elongated in preparation for his climax. He bit the inside of his mouth to prevent biting her. She didn’t understand, and a sneak attack wouldn’t win him points. Control, but even that held on by the thinnest thread.

“Fuck, yes, Stevie.” Storm salivated as he came. His blood swirled around in his mouth. His seed filled her, coating her womb.

She dropped against his collarbone. “You’re going to kill me, you know,” she murmured. Her shallow breaths whispered over his sensitive skin.

He tensed for a split second. “If you mean dying of happiness, then maybe, but I guarantee, I won’t kill you.” He’d change her in an instant if it meant keeping her at his side for the rest of his life. “I’d rather keep you alive forever in my arms.”

Stevie kissed his Adam’s apple and hugged him close. “Why didn’t we try this before now?”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I’m nothing more than a rat only interested in nailing an attractive woman,” Storm murmured. Thank God and whoever else watched over them. She hadn’t caught his earlier slip of the tongue.

Thoughts raced through his mind. If he still existed in his human form, she’d most likely be pregnant. He’d have children of his own. A slow wave of sadness washed over him. He couldn’t give her babies if she wanted them.
Dammit.
He smoothed his hands over the delicate bones in her spine. She deserved more than he could possibly give her, but he’d fight to his death to keep her in his life.

As if to rescue him from the depressive thoughts, Stevie straightened. She shivered. “Why don’t we go inside and watch the rest of the race?”

“What race? Your stock car races usually happen during the afternoon.” He frowned.

She walked her fingers up his sternum and licked her bottom lip. “Correct, but they run the August Bristol race under the lights. Judging by the dashboard clock, I’d say we have about an hour left unless they’ve had a lot of caution laps.”

He tipped her chin to meet her gaze and crooked a brow. “Are you going to wear your Tucker Poston tee?”

“Absolutely.
How else can I cheer on my favourite driver?” Stevie’s eyes twinkled.
“But nothing else.”

He groaned and his erection prodded her once again. Storm tried to remove his brain from below his belt, but the idea of Stevie in little more than a flimsy T-shirt rocked his world. “You know NASCAR bores me to tears, right?”

“I don’t doubt it, and I have a plan that should keep your attention just fine.”

“Tell me the plan, babe.” Storm kissed her. “Get me up to speed.”

She scraped his areolas with her fingernails. “You can’t watch a race without sporting your colours, but since you don’t have a favourite driver,” she nibbled her bottom lip, “you’ll be nude.”

He groaned again.
Hell yes.
“Race you to the living room?”

She nodded and kissed him hard on the lips. “The last one there has to service the other!” she screeched and slid buck naked out of the truck.

Storm shuddered with pleasure and kicked out of his jeans. “Oh, baby, I intend to service you all night.”

Forever in his arms and his life, if he had his way.

He’d make it so.

Chapter Seven

Hours later, Storm carried Stevie’s sleeping form to the bedroom and drew the thick curtains closed. He glanced at the alarm clock, five fifty-three. Slivers of Sunday sunshine peeked through the blinds in the bedroom. He yawned and closed out the dangerous rays. Watching the race had been indeed boring, but experiencing Stevie’s victory celebration when her favourite driver won had held Storm’s attention. His heart leapt as he thought about her lips wrapped around his cock, loving him with her mouth. She made a snooze-worthy sport the most exciting thing in the world.

As he lowered himself into bed next to her, Stevie’s phone
blared
a song by the band, Disenfranchised Bodies. Storm glared at the aggravating device. Yes, he’d picked the song, but he never expected to hear it so often. Didn’t she believe in turning the thing down when she slept? He checked the caller ID. Who needed to call her at this hour of the morning?

Restricted.

Go figure. It could be her sister. It could be one of her friends. A shiver skated up his spine. It could be O’Toole. Storm flicked the phone open, but before he could answer, the caller beat him to the punch.

“Stevie, you didn’t listen to me.”

Storm fought the wave of rage building in his system and left the comfort of the bedroom. He knew that voice and didn’t want to wake Stevie when he lost his temper.

“You went home with him after I warned you.”

Storm seethed and paced the living room, bare-assed naked. “Butt out of my business, Allan. She’s my mate.”

“Mate, my ass,” Allan snapped. “Storm, why are you answering her phone? Can’t bear to let her have a life of her own?”

If he had another hour of darkness, Storm would consider rushing across town to beat his former friend to a pulp for interfering. “I don’t own Stevie, but she’s still asleep. Now tell me, why did you warn her against me?”

“Because she deserves more.
I knew you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself and your dick in your pants. Who’s going to explain to her that you can’t reproduce and don’t live like her suburban friends? You never thought that far ahead.”

“I think about her all the time. I know her needs,” Storm bit out. “She doesn’t want any of that. Stevie wants me.”

“Oh really?
And did she come right out and tell you that she reciprocates your lusty we’re-good-for–a-couple-of-night-then-shove-off-‘cause-I-don’t-do-commitment feelings? I doubt it.”

“I read her thoughts. Her scent marked me. I’ve changed. I’ll take no other.” Storm raked his fingers through his hair.

“You know you can’t hold onto her forever. She’ll want to grow old together. What are you going to say?
Honey, I don’t age. Isn’t it great? While you turn into a bag of wrinkles and liver spots, I’ll still look thirty?
” Allan growled on his end of the line.

Storm pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “So you threatened her with a fucking gun to get her to leave me? That kind of shit won’t get your point across. She sat on my truck and
cried,
asshole. She won’t admit it, but she’s scared to death.”

Allan gasped.
“Gun?
Hell, no. Two nights ago, I told her to watch out for your roving eyes. Remember, at the Chatty Catty when you locked lips with Peggy Harriel? I mentioned that to Stevie. She laughed it off.”

Storm levelled his shoulders. This ridiculous argument needed to cease, if for no other reason than he wanted to cuddle the only woman who made his battered heart beat. “You didn’t tail her with a gun?”

“Storm, you know me better than that. We fought the frickin’ Civil War together on opposing sides, and I still didn’t take your ass out when Longstreet ordered me to. I just don’t want to see you hurt her.”

Storm sat in his treasured leather easy chair and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Look, your plan backfired. She’s staying with me, which is perfect because I love her. I can’t predict our future, but I do know I won’t take another lover. Stevie’s it.”

The phone connection crackled. “Wait. You said a gun, Storm. What happened with the gun?”

Storm recalled the incident. He scratched his forehead. “I don’t know who the person is and I’m afraid for Stevie. I know she can handle herself, but I don’t want a crazy gunman chasing her because of me, Allan.”

“O’Toole’s crazy enough with revenge to want to try something like this.”

“I agree, but I can’t locate him. I thought I saw him, or someone who looked an awful lot like him, at the club, but I can’t sense him at all. When Stevie came back from the bank, his scent was all over her.
Strawberries, the fucker.”